Tiny Vessels
by Gabi217
Summary: Memories tide over from her vacation time. The bruises show the weeks, and the movements hold the promise. He can't tell her he loves her. She shouldnt mean that to him. Oneshot, DG with mention of BlaiseHrm. Based on Death Cab For Cutie song 'Tiny Vessel


_**Tiny Vessels**_

**by: **gabrielle

**Loosely based on the song **_**Tiny Vessels** by Death Cab for Cutie. I disclaim all characters and song lyrics, and give them up to Jo, her boys at Warner, and the wonderful creations Ben Gibbard has sent forth into the world to tear me apart. _

_Take what you can of this mess of words and decipher it yourself. _

_

* * *

_

_I would never go as far as to say that I love her, even though I do. What we had then was a platonic attraction, two people that met each other half way on the road of lust. Nothing but physical movement. _

_I told myself she was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to me._

_We were invisible together, like ghosts, then… haunting a memory in sleep that made us roll about on our covers in the night, pressing our limbs into cold sheets. We were translucent and unreal, gliding through everything. _

_Maybe it was that she was so unattainable. She was my best friend's wife, and I had my filthy hands on her. What I can't take is that it was so easy to have her, just to call her name and make her mine, call her back into my bed…I thank myself for that._

_Maybe it was that I couldn't hold her openly that made me want her. That he had her and I didn't, and I had to one-up him. It was all this that brought me through to her, coupling with her hair and her skin, and her digits that stroked a man's forehead into sleep. He's a lucky man, my best mate. _

_Sometimes I used to wonder if she'd ever tell. _

_

* * *

_

_**This is the moment that you know  
That you told you loved her but you don't.  
You touch her skin and then you think  
That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.  
Yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.**_

"Ginny!"

One hand clutched her heart with curved fingertips, her face stricken. The other went limp and still, letting go of her bag as it hit the floor with a gentle bang. Something shattered inside; she imagined it would be one of her souvenirs. Too bad she couldn't take the one she wanted, just a memory of it.

She turned around quickly, facing a smiling face. He took her shoulders gently.

"Merlin, how I missed you," he whispered, nuzzling his face into her neck. She stepped back slightly, as if coming to life, her back straightening beneath his arms.

"What's the matter, darling?" he asked, trying to catch her eyes which she easily avoided, closing them and faking a yawn.

"Nothing, dear," she whispered, dropping her hand from her chest. He turned her face toward his and she jerked her chin out of his grasp gently, sighing.

"Is there something wrong? Are you ill?" he inquired worriedly, but she shook her head, still avoiding his eyes.

"If being tiresome is an illness, this is fatal," she joked nervously, and he only chuckled, sliding his hands down her arms, where he took her hands.

"Well, I'm off to the office, so get some rest. Draco came back in this morning, and hasn't done a single paper… someone has to shovel him out. I won't be long - go get some rest, and when I come back, we'll order out."

She nodded tiredly, her body relaxing as he picked up his briefcase.

"He'll be in for dinner tonight, of course. Back to tell us about his vacation. Maybe you two could trade stories?" he grinned, then kissed her forehead, apparating quickly.

She collapsed onto the sofa beside her. The entire living room of the flat was silent, and the bag she had dropped slid gently from the broken contents inside, falling lopsided until it fell over completely. She wanted to cry, just then, as she got up and stood before the bathroom mirror, pulling off her turtleneck. The contusions came brightly to life, a gentle, tingling sensation all that remained of what was supposed to be her holiday. It was supposed to be a relaxing time, a time to unload all of her stress. But she had only accumulated more, and leaning against the wall in the shower she decided she'd take no more vacations.

California had been nice, of course. Her second trip to American since graduation, the first a trip to a little city called Sparta in a state called New Jersey. Silverlake had been wonderful, the bright sunshine and quiet relaxing time a good start to the place. But as the storm clouds rolled in later on, she found herself turning to a familiar figure in a bar near her hotel. He was beautiful, but he couldn't mean anything.

And now he was coming to dinner. And they would share their vacations. And Blaise would hate her, and the world would end.

She hoped it would go exactly in that order, just for the sake of her sanity.

* * *

_**I spent two weeks in Silverlake  
The California sun cascading down my face  
There was a girl with light brown streaks  
And she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.  
Yeah she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.**_

The papers were shuffling around him, some being blown across the room by the fan that whirled slowly. He caught what he could see out of his peripheral vision, his eyes solely focused on the large oak door before him, the one that would burst open any moment now, giving way to his radiant best mate, who would grin at him and coax him into telling how his vacation had gone. And Draco would bite his tongue and give all the low points, and make a liar of himself.

It seemed the past two weeks he'd lied to himself many times , so to hell with one more.

The papers blew around him gently, and he caught the ones that would be suspicious to Blaise, the small scribbles of her name on a yellow pad. He curled them in his fist and dropped them into the wastebasket, biting his bottom lip gently. He pulled the collar up around his neck, rubbing the warm skin there.

It was like she brought him to life by making him bleed.

It almost made him want to laugh as he thought it, just the simple sentence in his mind a flintstone for hilarity. The laugh was mirthless and bent upon emotion, a sound that was strangled. It made him want to hit someone, for having his best mate's girl. He couldn't face him, not at all. His guilt would seep out slowly, and there was no dam to hold back.

He'd grabbed his coat and was pulling himself out of his chair when the door slid open and Blaise popped in, the room seeming to bright surreptitiously.

"Well, what have we here? A thoughtful Draco with no work done. How was the trip?"

For both their sakes, Draco looked out the window and shrugged.

"It was nice."

Blaise smirked, pulling a stack of files toward him. Something about the death of someone. Draco hoped he, himself, would fall over dead.

"There was a girl?" he ventured, and Draco froze. The shivers, gladly, we not evident, but he pressed his palm against the window, watching the way his fingers fell against the frail glass. Like they'd fallen across her.

"Yes," he choked, and Blaise quietly flipped through the papers, not looking up.

_**Wanted to believe in all the words that i was speaking  
As we moved together in the dark  
And all the friends that i was telling  
And all the playful misspellings  
And every bite i gave you left a mark**_

"And?"

"I wanted to tell her I loved her," he whispered, and Blaise slowed to a stop, looking up finally.

"Why?"

"Because she was beautiful. She couldn't not mean anything."

_**Tiny vessels oozed into your neck  
And formed the bruises  
That you said you didn't want to fade  
But they did and so did i that day**_

"Could she?"

"She said she didn't want to go away. But we did, because we had to. We had lives."

He could feel the emotion flooding over him, but stopped it immediately, turning away from the window. Blaise pushed the file back to the table.

"We're ordering out. Come and eat," he said softly, herding his friend out of the office. As they took the steps, Blaise checked his watch.

"I have to go pick up some papers. I'll be there in ten minutes," he said, and took off.

As the door clicked closed behind him, Draco stared up at the sky. It was going to rain.

* * *

The window was open, and the thunder was rolling. Ginny looked reckless and disheveled, touching the window with gentle fingertips. As if on cue, the door burst open, and she turned to see him.

It only took seconds to sweep across the room and fall into his arms.

It only took a moment to meet lips, to become invisible.

It only took one sense to notice the door closing in the stairwell.

"Is something wrong?" he whispered, touching her wet face with his fingertips, brushing them with his thumbs. She shook her head, but her eyes said it all.

"Not now," he whispered, and she dried her face hurriedly and scurried into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Draco collapsed into a chair, inhaling the sweet scent of her, willing his heart to quit burning.

**_All i see are dark grey clouds  
In the distance moving closer with every hour  
So when you ask "was something wrong?"  
That i think "you're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now.  
No, we can't talk about it now."_**

The dinner was slow and peaceful. Nobody spoke half the time, and Draco and Ginny didn't meet eyes, using Blaise as a middle man instead. When they'd cleared the table, Draco declined coffee. Blaise got an emergency page.

"It's my mum. Draco, I'll see you out now, then. This'll take all night."

Draco made a show of grabbing his briefcase, and standing at the door. Blaise turned to Ginny, who was standing in the bedroom doorway.

"I'll be back around noon tomorrow, darling. Will you be quite alright?" he murmured, and she nodded, and he kissed her forehead.

Shutting the bedroom door was a gate he could unlock with ease.

Draco and Blaise split at the sidewalk before the flat entrance, and he watched his best mate slip happily around the corner, the guilt dropping from him as it gave way to great feeling. He almost knocked ten people down on the way up the steps, breaking through the door at the exact moment she rushed to meet him, her lips eager to touch him.

**_So one last touch and then you'll go  
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more  
But it was vile, and it was cheap  
And you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me  
Yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me_**

Yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me

He took her in his arms, beautiful and strong and kissed her soundly, pulling her to him. She pushed away, gently.

"Draco," she murmured, and he dove at her again, touching her body, swaying in the dizziness.

It was a funny feeling to know that everything you've ever wished to say disappeared in one second, the very instant your back hit the mattress.

Their bodies curved around each other, the extremity of it all blinding and drowning and peaking their senses, an ultimate sensation that brought her mind out and made her translucent, able to slip and slide through his fingers, watching his words from afar.

"I can't do this, Ginny," he whispered, pairing his words with a touch. She shivered and sighed.

"I know," was all she could breath, and she could feel the tears on her stomach as he kissed her, and she tried to console him.

"I can't let him have you," he said, and she ran her hands through his hair, trying to hold back tears. "I have to have you. It won't go away."

"I know it won't," she whispered, the emotion in her voice scratching it. He held her to him tightly, taking deep shuddering breaths.

"And you're going to stay here? Incomplete?"

The question hung in the air like smoke, blinding her. She closed her eyes.

"What can I do?"

"Come to Italy with me," he answered almost immediately, his voice catching. She sobbed silently, her body shaking.

"And leave Blaise?" her voice bubbled out, and he pulled his way up her body, kissing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

"He doesn't love you like I love you."

She held his head in her arms, cradling it there.

"I don't know what to do. I couldn't bare it without you… but Blaise is so safe," she reasoned, the tears sliding down her cheeks.

He brushed them aside.

"That means no," he told himself in a heartbreaking whisper. She shook her head vehemently, cradling her to him.

"What would happen if I threw it all away?" she whispered back. He shook his head, now.

"He'll understand, Ginevra."

"Will he? Who else will?"

"If he's fine with it, the world will be. No one has to know but us."

"And then?"

"We go by instinct."

"Things don't work out by instinct," she scoffed, and he shriveled away, pulling his arms back.

"Oh, Draco, that's not what I - "

"Oh, it's not, is it? Do you always plan things so meticulously? Do things always have to be right before you do them? Can't you just take a leap, a bound of faith, and feel fine?"

She looked down into his eyes and wiped the tears away, and saw the hope there. The love. The adoration. The pain that could be goodbye.

"Alright," she said, so quietly. "I'll go."

He grinned ear to ear, tracing her navel and the gentle scar of her stomach, up between her breasts, to her collarbone. Near seven am, the doorbell rang. And rang. And finally, as if for one good measure, gave a loud, long ring, and stopped. He held her hands, her fingers, and squeezed them, letting her get away with reluctance.

The door seemed to be shaking, but no knocks came from it, and Ginny was genuinely surprised to open the door and see Hermione.

She was still in her Healer's uniform, although quite rumpled, and her hair (now straighter) was a mess, quite ruffled. The mascara on her face was streaking black in the lamplight, and her hands were trembling as she held them to her mouth, eyes wide.

"Hermione?" she asked quietly.

"I had to come and tell you. There was no other way," she babbled, and Ginny let her inside, led her to the couch, where she collapsed. Idly kicking the bag that Ginny had left in the living room.

"Tell me what?" she asked, but the brunette didn't hear her, and continued to sob.

"I couldn't stand the guilt. And the way you didn't know; I couldn't stand that you'd continue on, indifferent and oblivious, living an unperfect marriage."

And then she knew, whatever it was, it had to do with Blaise.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"So I don't have to say it right out?" she said, a little off guard. Draco came to the entryway silently, and no one saw him.

"Just tell me how it happened. I'll understand."

Hermione wrung her hands anxiously, letting the fresh tears spill silently.

"I was the Healer for his mum, you know. He comes in frequently. After awhile, it was comfortable to be with him. We went to lunch and such, we had coffee. And then we began to meet behind your back, and the guilt took up."

Ginny nodded, and the shivers ran down your spine.

"I had to tell you now, because things are getting out of hand. I had to have you know, so you could make up your mind."

"I'm sure you know what I'm going to say."

Hermione looked into her unhurt, well, maybe _slightly_ pained eyes, and nodded.

"But how did you know?" she whispered, and behind Ginny, Draco's foot landed on the creaking board, and Hermione looked up. Ginny didn't turn around, only staring forward at the wall, tears in her eyes.

"Because I know how it feels to love someone else," she whispered, and Hermione bit her lip and hugged her best friend. After a moment, Ginny sighed.

"So it's not really his mum."

Hermione shook her head sheepishly.

"His mum's been out for a good three weeks, now."

She nodded slowly, and then stood up, pulling Hermione with her.

"We'll settle this out this weekend. Go, be unguilty. And know that I love all of you evenly."

"Says the guilty prophet."

And then the door shut and Draco cradled her in his arms, and she _relaxed_, letting her body go.

It felt right to be beneath him on a bed that wasn't theirs, his fingers idly stroking the strong discolor on her neck, her shoulders. He kissed each spot, and she sighed.

"You're beautiful. I can't stand to hold back how I love you. And I know that's not how affairs are supposed to go, but - "

"You can't follow the lines of the song forever," she whispered with a smile on her face, cradling his own in her hands, before she kissed him breathlessly.

And he agreed.

_I used to wonder if she'd ever tell._

_If she'd ever become too guilty in her mind, maybe, and send herself sprawling to a guilty death. _

_But it turned out that we weren't the only guilty ones as well, and we never had to say anything. All that invisibility, for nothing. _

_No, we said nothing but, "Congratulations, when's the baby due?" _

_And they said nothing more than, "You too, is it a boy or girl?" _

_And she never told. _


End file.
